The Tale of Beowulf/Chapter 11
XI. NOW IS BEOWULF LEFT IN THE HALL ALONE WITH HIS MEN.
THEN wended him Hrothgar with the band of his warriors,The high-ward of the Scyldings from out of the hall,For then would the war-lord go seek unto WealhtheowThe Queen for a bed-mate. The glory of king-folkAgainst Grendel had set, as men have heard say,A hall-ward who held him a service apartIn the house of the Dane-lord, for eoten-ward held he.Forsooth he, the Geat-lord, full gladly he trowedIn the might of his mood and the grace of the Maker.670Therewith he did off him his byrny of ironAnd the helm from his head, and his dighted sword gave,The best of all irons, to the thane that abode him,And bade him to hold that harness of battle.Bespake then the good one, a big word he gave out,Beowulf the Geat, ere on the bed strode he: Nowise in war I deem me more lowlyIn the works of the battle than Grendel, I ween;So not with the sword shall I lull him to slumber,Or take his life thuswise, though to me were it easy;680Of that good wise he wots not, to get the stroke on me,To hew on my shield, for as stark as he shall beIn the works of the foeman. So we twain a night-tideShall forgo the sword, if he dare yet to seekThe war without weapons. Sithence the wise God,The Lord that is holy, on which hand soeverThe glory may doom as due to him seemeth.Bowed down then the war-deer, the cheek-bolster tookThe face of the earl; and about him a manyOf sea-warriors bold to their hall-slumber bow'd them;690No one of them thought that thence away should heSeek ever again to his home the beloved,His folk or his free burg, where erst he was fed;For of men had they learn'd that o'er mickle a many In that wine-hall aforetime the fell death had gottenOf the folk of the Danes; but the Lord to them gave it,To the folk of the Weders, the web of war-speeding,Help fair and good comfort, e'en so that their foemanThrough the craft of one man all they overcame,By the self-might of one. So is manifest truth700That God the Almighty the kindred of menHath wielded wide ever. Now by wan night there came,There strode in the shade-goer; slept there the shooters,They who that horn-house should be a-holding,All men but one man: to men was that known,That them indeed might not, since will'd not the Maker,The scather unceasing drag off 'neath the shadow;But he ever watching in wrath 'gainst the wroth oneMood-swollen abided the battle-mote ever.